Tuesday, August 28, 2018

What's
with all these protestors blocking photographers' shots lately? That's
like sticking up 'Garage Sale' signs all over your neighborhood, then
getting pissed when folks show up in your driveway wanting to buy your
old toaster.

I don't get it. I've been covering protests of
varying degrees since the first Bush administration and I've seen a lot
of goofy things in the name of dissent. But a pack of hacks
raising a ruckus on public property and demanding the media look away? That's a new one.

Or is it?

In the fall of
2016, angry mobs flooded the streets of uptown Charlotte to protest the
police shooting of Keith Scott. I was there among the crush of cops,
clergy and anarchists one night when one protestor in particular
produced of all things, a bathroom mirror. "The media needs to look at
itself!", he screamed as he jammed the mirror into my lens. 'Clever', I
thought, as I twisted my torso to turn away from him. But the pack of
jackals around me was so tight I couldn't escape the reflective heckler
and he succeeded in blocking my shot for several minutes. Luckily, I had
a 'security detail' with me that night, which simply meant that a few
paces behind me was an underemployed bar bouncer being paid to make sure
I made my deadline unmolested. After a few inelegant gestures on my
part, I got his attention and he quickly shoo'd Mr. Mirror away.

What's my point? Don't know that I have one, other than to suggest that
people who protest in public should fully expect, perhaps even want, to
make a headline. Otherwise, might I suggest your organization launch a
letter writing campaign, or perhaps a bake sale... just don't be
surprised when camera crews show up. See, this sidewalk happens to be
our office and we're all under heavy deadline. We may not give one thin
shit about your issue, but we care deeply about documenting whatever is
about to go down. So, to quote the Beastie Boys, don't come with the
rhymes that you just half-baked. And whatever you do, don't try to hide
from us.

Monday, August 06, 2018

When Adam Butlerasked me to be on his Charlotte Media Podcast,
I thought we were gonna
talk TV News. And boy, did we. But that rascally Adam slipped in some
discourse and before you know it, I'd exposed myself. Man, that sounds
creepy AF! Anyhoo, consider the next forty-eight minutes of your life non-returnable. It's a pretty manic ramble on my part, Southern accent and all. One past reporter pal said this particular podcast reminds her of being stuck in a news car with me on some deadline-driven dog-day afternoon. ATTICA!

Thursday, June 28, 2018

It’s a brutal pursuit, this gathering of facts - a headlong dash into danger and indifference, a race around the region as if the very future of the republic hinged on a thirty second clip of an upended dump-truck. For nearly thirty years I’ve wedged my way into unwise positions, spotlighted the plight of the victors and the vanquished as desk-bound overlords critiqued my technique in real-time. There’s a million ways to make a much better living, but none that held my attention like the flickering blue screen inside my viewfinder.

I’ve learned a lot along the way: don’t trust politicians of any party, keep your head on a swivel no matter the backdrop, clean your plate before heading into dirty weather. Three decades of daily deadlines haven’t bought me a beach house, but it’s made me wealthy beyond measure in other ways. I’ve quizzed future presidents, hung out of helicopters and carried more beauty queens than most parade floats. Sure, I’ve cursed it all a time or ten, but never once seriously considered doing anything else with my working life.

I know lots of people with the same affliction. I can’t say I like them all. But drop in on any breaking news scene and you’ll find a puddling scrum of gadflies, philosophers and misfits. But for all their differences, they share one unifying trait: they are insatiable communicators, be it with a camera, a microphone or keyboard. Block their shot and they’ll rip your lips off. Obfuscate and you’ll make a mortal enemy. Utter the phrase ‘no comment’ and we’ll camp out in your yard and tell everyone you wouldn’t talk.

Such habits have never made journalists very popular and we’re totally cool with that. If everyone loves us, we’re not doing our jobs correctly. Lately though, it’s gotten out of hand. Elected leaders blame us for not adopting their spin, toothless rubes scream obscenities from passing pick-up trucks and people we once considered friends spread lies and distortions they heard in their own personal echo chambers.

Just this afternoon, some nut-bag with a grudge gunned down five newspaper employees, all for reasons no one’s ever gonna understand. But even a tragedy as unspeakable as this won’t stop us. It only strengthens our resolve and recommits us to our mission. So yell ‘Fake News’ all you want. It only emboldens us. I’m proud to be a part of the fourth estate, as imperfect as it is. Try to squelch us and our numbers will only multiply.

After all, a free press is a very large part of what makes this country great. Look it up in that history book you don't own. I'll wait...

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

If you've ever followed another station's live truck to a breaking news scene you just insisted didn't exist, you might be my kind of photog.

If you've ever waltzed into a press conference that was well underway, set up your sticks in a clattering fashion and still bagged the bite every outlet uses that night, you might be my kind of photog.

If you've ever grown bored watching cops drag a river, cursed the day you picked up a lens, then displayed nothing but grace when the body popped up, you might be my kind of photog.

If
you keep a mental inventory of every public bathroom, all night diner and
sweeping skyline view within the mid-city metroplex, you might be my kind of photog.

If
you've ever scanned a jam packed ballroom and found the one
politician in the room who didn't want to be on TV that day, you might be my kind of photog.

If you know the glow of a gas station stabbing, have taken a selfie with a cadaver dog and know the best places to eat in the worst parts of town, you might be my kind of photog.

If
you can make a grieving mother feel good about sharing her story and
live with yourself afterwards, you might be my kind of photog.

If you know how to act when the President comes to town, when the school bus tips over, when the widow reaches for her next clump of Kleenex, you might be my kind of photog.

If you're up to being thrust into danger and doldrums at a moment's notice without letting it turn you into an absolute scab, you might be my kind of photog.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Like you, I’ve been cracking out on the Winter Olympics and while I’ve
thrilled at the sight of young athletes pushing themselves to the extreme, I
can’t help but wonder what the games would look like if they let MY
PEOPLE compete…

Laptop Luge - Photog straps self onto a rickety contraption
made of old TV antennas, clenches wi-fi hotspot thingie between teeth and
slides down an icy embankment while editing a minute-fifteen news story on an
outdated laptop. Points scored only if news story successfully uploaded by time
of inevitable crash. Story coherence of no concern. Extra points awarded if
antenna-sled deemed reusable.

Squirreling - Doubles event in which two TV News
photographers scramble across semi-frozen pond while sliding 70's era camera
batteries back and forth to each other. Photogs must do so while cradling cell
phone between ear and shoulder as disembodied voice quizzes them on their
progress. Points deducted for overt swearing. First photog to reach shore with
most batteries wins. Any medals earned will be presented to anchors back at the
station.

News Crew Quadrathlon - Team event in which reporter and
photographer are dispatched to four separate counties in a badly-neglected live
truck. News Crew must produce two separate stories on two separate subjects and
go live(!) a minimum of four times. Crew not allowed to consume heated food
during entirety of event and must complete the course at least an hour and a
half from starting point... Wait, that's no Olympic Event… that was
Tuesday!

Thursday, January 25, 2018

I've been working the early morning shift lately and there's a certain proclivity I noticed among all my colleagues...

Morning show people talk about their afternoon naps the way fitness buffs brag about going to the gym:

"I tripped over an ottoman during Judge Judy and laid there for three hours. Totally crushed it!"

"Not me, I plan my naps with military precision. Twelve thirty to four is MY time. The wife gets mad when I take the batteries out of the smoke detectors. She just doesn't understand me..."

"Yeah, well after lunch I was scraping bird crap off my driveway and just lost consciousness. Woke up in the upside down with the kids from Stranger Things circling me on bicycles. At least I think that's what happened..."

Truth is, it takes years of training and sacrifice to master the Midday Face Mash. Whether you're changing light bulbs, lying face down in the bathtub or on the Skype machine with Aunt Hilda, when the point of collapse approaches, you HAVE to stick the landing. Of course, perfect execution of this age old feat requires silence between the synapses, a looping stupor that other folks have to linger on sketchy street corners to score. Do it right and you can damn near time travel. Or at least feel like it when you come to hours later with two dimes and a Cheeto stuck to your face.Now if you'll excuse me, I have to wrap myself in blackout curtains and crawl into the attic.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

A deep dip of the lens to UK cameraman Christian Parkinson for having me on his Image Junkies Podcast. Christian's a tour de force on his own side of the pond and no stranger to life behind the lens. As for our chat, I was sleep-deprived at the time yet happy to be asked to blather. Recent events have left me with that burning urge to write again and I'll take this interview as the kick in the ass I need to get started. Give it a listen if you will, and know that I don't sound quite as Southern inside my own head. Thanks again, Christian. Next time, I promise to know exactly what kind of camera I use. What do you expect from an absent-minded word nerd?

...committing television since 1989...

Nathaniel Hawthorne...

"Easy reading is damn hard writing."

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